


what a shameful way to be the same

by chime



Series: i need you to be better than me [2]
Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Gen, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chime/pseuds/chime
Summary: And then it’s there: ten years of a life Takumi could never have lived, crystal clear and real like any of his other memories.





	what a shameful way to be the same

Takumi had just come back from lunch, and was eager to tackle a particularly tricky problem anew, when suddenly his ears are ringing. He has a stomachache. His head hurts. And worst of all, he wants to cry.

 

Takumi has to leave the lab early. His supervisor lets him go easily, thought she is a little surprised. In the time since he had started working here 2 years ago, Takumi had hardly ever taken a sick day. They had to strongarm him into even taking a vacation. He keeps to himself, he offers help when it’s needed, and, naturally, he’s a genius. She lets him go with a sincere, “Take care of yourself.”

 

On the train ride home, he goes over his symptoms. The headache has mostly subsided, though he does feel nauseous. He keeps coming back to a troubling thought. Takumi doesn’t doubt himself often, but he’s sure something is wrong. He’s done something wrong. Anxiety could be a symptom of many things, but he’s not sure if that’s the case here.

 

Takumi walks the three flights to his apartment, frowning at the door. He does live here, doesn’t he? The key fits, in any case, and the apartment, while sparsely decorated, is familiar. He stands in the entryway, steadying his breath.

 

He looks to the mirror to his right, and is shocked to see his face staring back at him. And then it’s there: ten years of a life he could never have lived, crystal clear and real like any of his other memories.

 

His father. His father is alive, he called him last week. His father was dead last week, a sacrifice for his grand plan, ten years in the making.

 

Takumi Katsuragi is a research assistant at a private university. Takumi Katsuragi is dead, disgraced.

 

He makes it to the bathroom, at least, to be sick. He sits on the floor for a while in the dark, breathing.

\--

 

Takumi doesn’t see Sento Kiryuu until about a month after the creation of the new world.

 

The distinction is uncomfortable, but necessary. He did live a life, 27 years of life, before Evolt destroyed the old Earth and Sento and his friends had to resort to their ridiculous plan. He probably wasn’t supposed to remember, but being in the center of the collision gave him some kind of immunity. For better or worse.

 

The worst part of the new world, he thinks, is how unscientific the whole process was.

 

Takumi spends the first few days after his bout of illness in a state of disoriented fear. He’s not sure who he is, or where these memories leave him.

 

He does not expect to see Sento ever again. He knows he’s out there, probably mooning around with that musclebound fool. Takumi doesn’t want anything to do with him, he decides. He can deal with this himself.

 

Unfortunately, Sento has other ideas.

 

Takumi catches sight of him on a bench in the lobby. He considers running, but then Sento looks up from his clunky, gaudy phone, and sees him.

 

“Hey,” Sento says, with a short wave. “Doctor Katsuragi.”

 

Takumi frowns. Was he trying to pass as a student? “So,” he says, cutting to the point, “You found me.”

 

Sento’s eyes widen. “You recognize me?”

 

“Unfortunately,” he says, then adds, “Can we talk about this in my office?”

 

Takumi shares his office with a few other researchers, most of whom are out. Small mercies.

 

Sento sits in Takumi’s chair, swivelling it back and forth. He seems almost giddy.

 

“Not a lot of people recognize you?” Takumi asks, knowing the answer. He feels bad for Sento, almost. The Devil’s Scientist can’t be a good consolation prize.

 

“Not really,” Sento says, “Banjou does, but he’s not this world’s Banjou, so he doesn’t exactly count.”

 

“Hm,” Takumi says. He doesn’t know where to sit, or what to do with his hands. “Lucky for them.”

 

Sento stops fidgeting, and his face falls. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

 

Takumi waves off his apology. “Why did you come here, if you didn’t think I would recognize you?”

 

Sento frowns, thinking. Putting his thoughts into words, careful. Takumi knows the pattern. Sento says, “We shared thoughts, shared a history. I wanted to know how you were doing, now.”

 

“I see.” Takumi says.

 

“I didn’t do anything suspicious, for the record.” Sento says. “I looked you up, found your profile at the university. Read some of your papers. Banjou told me I should just talk to you if I was so worried, which I  _ wasn’t _ , but.” He shrugs. “I’m here.”

 

“I thought he didn’t like me.” Takumi says.

 

“Oh, he doesn’t. He wanted to come just in case you did anything funny. But you don’t do anything funny, usually.” Sento laughs at his joke, turning it into a cough at Takumi’s expression. “I made him stay at Nascita.”

 

“The cafe?”

 

Sento smiles. “Yeah, Isurugi is really nice, you know? It’s nice to get to know him.”

 

Takumi doesn’t know if he could do that. Even if he wasn’t the same man, he had his face. “It’s good you have a place to stay, at least.”

 

They fall into a silence. Takumi isn’t sure what he could ask Sento, now. He doesn’t want to know about him, doesn’t want to get too close to this life he could never understand.

 

Sento steps in for him. “Can I ask you a favor?”

 

“Is this the real reason you came here?”

 

“No,” Sento says, exasperated, “I was being honest. But I realized something, coming here.”

 

“What was that?”

 

Sento runs his hand through his hair. Uncomfortable, an awkward request. “I miss mom and dad.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I don’t - we don’t have to tell them anything. It would be better if they didn’t know, really.” Sento says. He looks almost desperate. “I just want to know they’re okay.”

 

Nobody would accuse Takumi of being good with people. Or even good, in a traditional sense. But he knows he can’t say no, not to Sento. Not after everything. “Okay.”

 

“Thank you.” Sento says, and he’s smiling. 

 

They talk a little bit more, about work, about scripts, about Lynks’ new EP. They trade phone numbers.

 

As he’s leaving, probably just to be insufferable, Sento says, “Gen-san’s been looking good, you know. New haircut.”

 

Takumi nearly slams the door on him.


End file.
